


Just Can’t Seem to Die

by MadMarchHare



Category: Black Widow (Movie 2020), Marvel, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Avengers: Endgame (Movie) Spoilers, Gen, Post-Avengers: Endgame (Movie)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-05
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-16 10:14:46
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28580328
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MadMarchHare/pseuds/MadMarchHare
Summary: Natasha Romanoff wakes up at the bottom of the cliff after her sacrifice. But why? And more importantly, how?
Kudos: 14





	1. Awake

Natasha Romanoff groaned deeply. Her body hurt… not like a normal pain. Natasha and pain were old friends. This was different, the kind of pain you’re not supposed to wake up from. She felt like a shattered China doll. Her eyes opened slowly, reluctantly as she struggled to remember what had happened. “Ow…” she mumbled as she tried to move, tempted for once in her life to just stay down. But that wasn’t who she was. “Just another minute,” she reasoned with herself, trying to fight through the fog in her mind, struggling to remember any snippet of why she was laying at the bottom of a cliff, looking up at an unfamiliar sky.  
“Right, Vormir,” she mumbled once again, taking a breath and sitting up slowly, the throbbing in her head escalating for a moment before slowing back to a dull roar. Then came the realization. “If I’m alive, then did we fail? Oh God, what about Clint?” she asked herself, a sudden sense of urgency overtaking her. She looked up at where she’d left him pinned to the rock so that she could make the sacrifice…the last thing she’d seen was the pained look on his face as she pushed off of the rock with all her might, then lights out. Her mind tried to work through any possible solution, any reason why she was still breathing and the only solution was that they’d somehow failed. Pulling her knees up to her chest, she rested her cheek on them, wanting to go back to sleep. As she closed her eyes against the weight of failure, more thoughts swirled through her head. If she was here, where was Clint? What about the rest of them? Did someone else fail? Or worse, did someone else die? The thoughts raced through her head, questions burning the soul she was sure she’d lost ages ago.  
Finally, she took a deep, cleansing breath. “Enough, Romanoff. Get your ass up and answer the question,” she commanded, her body screaming at her as she unfolded herself once again and pulled herself to standing. Something on the ground caught her eye. Blood. Where her body had been. She knew that splatter pattern all too well, that was the mess a human body makes when it slams against a solid surface. Crouching painfully, she traced the old, dried marks on the rock, her gloved fingers following the marks almost reverently. “I… I’m not supposed to be here,” she said with a sense of panic, her hands moving from the stone unsteadily, unsure she was ready for the answers she’d find once she began exploring. Pulling off her glove, she raised her hand to the back of her head and let her fingers sift through the still braided hair there. She traced the soft contours of her skull, all in perfect alignment. No signs of the kind of damage that would yield the blood stain on the rocks. Her hand moved down to her neck, chest and finally down to her hips. No damage, aside from the deep and painful ache she felt throughout her body. Even that was beginning to fade from a white hot poker to a dull throbbing.  
More questions raced through her mind, but she knew she wasn’t going to find the answers at the bottom of the cliff. “Sure wish Stark was here, I could use a lift,” she sighed as she checked her stingers for damage, checking to see if she still had another grappling line or if she was going to have to climb this cliff freehand… not her favorite thing in the world. As luck would have it, she’d only deployed one in the fight with Clint, leaving one to spare. Sliding her glove back on her hand and raising it to aim at the cliff side, she took a breath and held it while she fired, making sure her aim was true to hit as high on the rocks as she possibly could. It landed with a small ‘thunk’, anchoring itself into the rock. “Here goes nothing,” she sighed softly, beginning her ascent up the cliff face.

Her ascent seemed to take forever. Then again, she mused aloud as she scaled the thin line like the professional she was, things seldom went quickly when there were answers to be had and nowhere to find them. She finally reached the top, grasping the flatness of the stone outcropping to pull herself up and heaving with all her might. She’d been forced to clear the last few feet without the help of her widow’s line as it hadn’t made it all the way to the upper surface of the cliff in the first shot. It simply wasn’t worth it to chisel it out of the rock only to have to recover it again once she reached the top.  
Hands on knees, she bent over to catch her breath. Was it always this hard, or was the fall from the cliff keeping her body from responding as she knew it should? “Damn,” she mumbled under her breath, willing the pain and fatigue to subside so that she could get down to the business of who’d failed their mission and how to make it right. This was the conclusion she’d come to as she spoke aloud to herself on the ascent. What did it matter if she spoke to herself? Not like there was anyone here to call her crazy and it helped her put her mind in order for the task ahead.  
Pushing herself up from her bent position finally, she felt her breath returning to normal. The dull ache was still there, but as she’d reasoned on her climb, maybe that was penance for failure. This was a concept she was intimately acquainted with, though she’d never been one to believe in a power that meted out punishment from on high, so maybe it was just the bitch of a fall. A soft, ironic chuckle floated from her lips. “Come on, Romanoff.” She laughed more at her own stupidity. “God’s punishment?” She scoffed. “Get it together. Just because there’s no one here to tell you you’re nuts doesn’t mean you aren’t.”  
“Quite to the contrary, Fraulein,” a heavily accented voice spoke from behind her. She pivoted instantly on her heel, muscle memory taking control of her actions in an all too familiar dance. Before her mind could register what was happening, the pistol from her right hip was in her right hand, her left sliding easily under the butt of the grip to steady her hand for the perfect shot. Her eye was looking through the sights, aligning front with back, though in reality she could have easily hit her target with no time to aim.  
Before she could speak, a ghoulish floating figure with a crimson head gestured dismissively with his hand. “Shoot me or do not, Fraulein, the choice is yours. However, I rather doubt a bullet would do any damage. But if it would make you feel better, then by all means… “ he trailed off, his hand again gesturing absently, as though he was missing a glass of wine that should be dangling from between the skeletal red fingers. “Once you have finished, perhaps we shall be civilized for a moment. I have no schnapps to offer, however I do believe we may find a way to hold a conversation without it.”  
“You…” she said, lowering her weapon and holstering it as smoothly as it had been drawn. “You’re the guardian of the stone here, right? I remember…” she trails off, taking a breath. “What can you tell me about why I’m back?” Her voice was demanding and entirely business. Now that she had someone to question, she had a path, a way.  
The figure chuckled, shaking his crimson head. “That is not how this works. After all,” he taunts, turning his back to her and moving towards where he’d come from. “Conversation is the backbone of polite society and it has been a very long time since I’ve seen anything resembling society. I have information you need; you have conversation I am interested in. Therefore, following me will be mutually beneficial.”  
Taking a deep breath, Natasha followed behind him. “Oh, I know I’m gonna regret this,” she mumbled as she walked.  
The figure before her simply chuckled low and raspy. “Likely,” he replied, nodding. “Very likely.”

The cave was cold and damp… just like the rest of Vormir. At least what she’d seen of it. This wasn’t exactly like all those vacation planets she’d seen in the sci-fi movies Bruce and Tony had chosen for movie nights at the compound over the years. This was hell, if she believed in such a thing. Which she didn’t. But if she did, this would be it. She sat looking at the spectre before her. Who he was, or at least who he looked and sounded like were fairly unmistakable, but it couldn’t be, she told herself. He’d disappeared in 1945 when Steve had gone into the ice. And yet, she’d seen stranger things out of the Infinity Stones, so here she sat, having a conversation with a man who’d been dead for nearly a century.  
“You’re the Red Skull,” she offered. If he was and what she’d read about him was correct, then the recognition would be a welcome ego stroke and could possibly grease the wheels to finding out what the hell was happening.  
“My reputation precedes me. Excellent!” He exclaimed with more emotion than he’d shown at any point previous. He stood straighter and she heard the faint clap of heels coming together under his robes a moment before he offered a crisp bow from his waist.  
“So you do actually have feet under there, huh…” she offered, taking mental notes for later. She ensured that her tone was just the right level of interest without overplaying her hand by sounding fake. It was a skill she’d honed through a thousand interrogations. “You were the leader of Hydra back in the 40s,” she began before he interrupted her with an explosion of pure zeal.  
“Nein!” He exclaimed, his finger shooting into the air in a wild gesture. “I WAS Hydra!” He opened his fist and pounded his chest with his palm twice. “It was nothing without me,” he said proudly, his smile spreading eerily across his ruddy face. “I took it from its infancy under Hitler and created a force that would have wiped even the Third Reich from the face of the earth, had I not been exiled here by Captain America.”  
She nodded, watching him. His ego was even more impressive than she’d remembered reading. She might have to play this a little differently than she’d planned.  
“The way Steve Rogers told it, he didn’t defeat you. It was the Tesseract,” she offered, hoping that maybe reminding him that it wasn’t a man who defeated him, but an actual piece of the universe that led to his defeat, would be a balm. “He admitted that if it hadn’t been for that, you were gonna beat him,” she nodded, gaging his reactions carefully.  
“Ah so you know the good Captain, then? He survived our little cruise through the clouds,” he said, sounding crestfallen in spite of the ego stroking. “I should have known that you were among his brethren. Throwing oneself from a cliff to save a friend who obviously had no desire to be saved is the act of the foolishly, hopelessly naive and something I think Captain Rogers would think very highly of,” he spat the words, his ruby lips dripping with disdain. “What a…” he paused for a moment to think, seemingly searching for words. “A noble gesture, however hollow it is. Tell me, Fraulein, do you regret your nobility now that you are stuck here in Purgatory with the Devil? Do you regret not allowing your companion to make the sacrifice so that you could live another day?” A satisfied grin curled his lips upwards as he waited expectantly for her reply.  
The words stung. It wasn’t that she regretted her sacrifice, not for one damn moment. She’d been trying for years to wipe the red from her ledger, and she figured giving her broken soul so that the trillions of souls throughout the universe who’d been snapped away so indiscriminately could exist again was a pretty small price to pay. What stung was the emotions that the thoughts of Steve, Clint and the others brought, the memory of Clint's face as she ‘won’ and went over the cliff. The knowledge that her sacrifice left a hole in her adopted family’s lives. These were things that the dead didn’t have to deal with, yet here she was and the pain threatened to break over her like an ocean wave if she didn’t contain it quickly.  
“You are the Devil,” she whispered, allowing her voice to break just enough to make him think that he’d really gotten to her, which he had, but she could use this. Pain and vulnerability were tools of her trade, the foundation on which she’d built many successful interrogations.  
“Perhaps,” he conceded, inclining his head towards her. “But if I am indeed the Devil, then what does that say about where you are? About who you are?” A cruel smile spread across his lips as he pressed forward towards her, his steps concealed by the flowing robes he wore. “Are you so unworthy of salvation that this is your eternal fate, Fraulein?” His bony hand swept in front of him, gesturing widely at their bleak surroundings.  
While her demeanor remained calm, her mind raced. Finally, she spoke, deciding to once again take a more direct approach. Her eyes narrowed… “You talk like you think you actually are the Devil, like this is Hell,” she says quietly, unsure if she’s speaking to him or simply trying to work out the situation aloud.  
He scoffed, his disturbingly hollow eyes falling on her, boring into her soul. “Is it not? Is this landscape not a hellish image of Purgatory? Could I not be the picture of Lucifer himself, a fallen angel who rebelled against the very father that created him? Were we burning now rather than freezing, would it be more convincing to you?” He shrugged. “I have never been one to bend my knee to a god, Fraulein, for I once walked among them,” he said, raising his head proudly, jaw squared. “But perhaps consider for a moment that you did not, in fact, wake at the bottom of the cliff. That your broken body still lies there on the rocks, and that your presence here before me is nothing more than the universe’s punishment for a life so poorly lived that your redemption required a blood sacrifice? I do not know you, but I do know the look of desperation,” he pressed towards her, taking a few more steps in her direction. “Whatever it takes,” he whispered menacingly, using her own words to torment her. “Is this the hero’s welcome you were expecting at the gates of Valhalla? Perhaps, mein Liebling, you are simply in Hell.” His last words were punctuated by halting pauses for emphasis as he came to a stop mere steps in front of her.  
His words felt like seering daggar penetrating her soul, slicing away at the usual vice-like grip she had on her emotions like a white hot poker through tissue paper. As hard as she fought to maintain her composure, she felt her grip slipping rapidly. She had to get away from him, to gather her thoughts. As she attempted to find an escape, he easily stepped in her path, creating a cruel dance which kept her trapped for a moment. Her breath hitched. She felt the tears welling. She had to get away and so in her desperation she did the only thing that came naturally to her in her pain. She drew her gun and shoved it in his face. “Move,” she commanded, willing her voice to be steady enough to sound authoritative.  
His cruel smile returned, intensifying with every emotion that flickered across her face. His hands raised slowly in a mock gesture of surrender when he saw the gun, though the smile remained. “I have told you, Fraulein, that it will do nothing, however, I shall grant you that which you seek, a moment to collect yourself and come to accept your situation.” In a smooth gesture that once again appeared as though he floated above the stones, he stepped aside, giving a small bow and a sweeping gesture of his hand as he allowed her to pass.  
The moment she was unobstructed, she holstered her gun and walked as quickly as she could past him, ignoring his polite bow. He watched her leave, sighing a soft, satisfied sigh. The smile which split his crimson lips was so sadistic that it shocked even him. After all, it had been a very long time since the Red Skull had possession of pawns with which to play. Sadly, one would have to be enough to feed what was left of his soul. However, with nothing to do but invent new ways to torment this woman and potentially an eternity to do it in, he thought perhaps he could manage to entertain himself, and that would sustain him...at least until he bored of her. Then? Well, he’d have quite some time before that happened.

To be continued...


	2. Cat and Mouse

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha tries to get a grip and figure out how to survive being stranded on Vormir while navigating a game of cat and mouse with the Red Skull

Natasha walked as quickly as she could, fighting the urge to break into a run as she left the cave and stepped into the elements. The frigid wind bit at her face and stung her cheeks, a welcome sensation as she made her escape. Cursing under her breath, she scolded herself for giving him the satisfaction of knowing he’d rattled her as tears finally began to flow down her cheeks. “Dammit, Romanoff, get a grip,” she mumbled as she reached for anything she could pull on to keep putting one foot in front of the other, to keep putting distance between herself and her would-be tormentor.  
It took a few more minutes of walking before she finally spotted what she’d been searching for; shelter. It was a cave, much like the one she’d been in with the Red Skull, though this one seemed to provide a bit more insulation from the elements. At least, it seemed it would provide a place to rest and get her thoughts together. She practically stumbled inside, her feet suddenly turning to lead. She was cold, but in spite of the wind and snow, she wasn’t nearly as cold as she assumed she’d be. Another thing to ponder when she felt more herself. But for now, she found some dry vegetation in the cave and gathered as much as she could find. Her survival instincts were the only thing keeping her going, so she pulled on them heavily as she piled the vegetation in a wind-protected spot on the cave’s floor. Sticking her stinger in the middle of the hastily piled debris, she sparked the taser function with a flick of her finger. The makeshift kindling ignited and a fire roared to life. The warmth poured over her as she slid back from it, propping herself up against a rock as she let the fire do its work.  
Her mind raced and the tears flowed freely. She wasn’t one for crying usually, but with the day she’d had, she supposed she could forgive herself this one time. She curled into a rounded spot in the rocks, wrapping her arms around her knees as she rocked back and forth, her sobs so forceful that they rocked her entire body. Now and again she’d have a moment of control, one that made her believe maybe she could gain some modicum of composure, and then the sobs would come again as everything came crashing back once again. Was she dead? Who knows, but at that moment she wished she was. Eventually the crying subsided as the fire slowly died, and she drifted into an uneasy, fitful sleep.  
Natasha had no idea what woke her...maybe nothing at all other than the need to be awake. She blinked, the darkness no more or less than it had been before, aside from the absence of the fire.  
“God does this place ever change?” She asked aloud, groaning and stretching as she extracted herself from the rocks she’d been sleeping on. Again, survival instinct nudged at her as she began to move around the cave, evaluating it for livability, deciding if she should remember where it was or move on to greener pastures. As she did, her mind drifted back to the encounter with the Red Skull. She silently scolded herself for the moment of weakness in front of him. If she was going to deal with him for who knew how long, the last thing she wanted was for him to think he had the upper hand. Which he did, but not for long.  
“Alright, Romanoff,” she began, taking a deep breath. “Food, shelter, protection. Not necessarily in that order.” She pulled her guns, one by one, from their holsters and checked the clips as a first order of business. “See?” She muttered absently as she counted the number of bullets she had left in each clip and the chambers, as well as the additional clips she carried in her belt. “That’s the problem with guns. Sure, they’re handy but they’re limited by how much ammo you can carry,” she chuckled a bit to herself as she went on assessing her personal arsenal. She felt around in her various pockets to check her knives and other small weaponry to make sure it was all intact, and finally tested her stingers and all the little tricks held within them. “Bless Stark for making me a tiny ARC reactor to power these things… now if only he’d equipped them with some food. I could really use a burger and some vodka right now.”  
She took a deep breath and nodded once. “And that brings me to food and shelter.” She wasn’t sure why talking to herself made her feel better, but for some reason it did. Maybe like she was a little less alone. She’d never had issues being alone before, but that was different. She paused for a moment as the thoughts of exactly how and why this was different again threatened to overwhelm her. “No!” She scolded herself, angry that she couldn’t seem to stay focused on the task at hand. “Dammit, if you lose your mind now you’re not gonna make it out of this. That’s what he wants, to get in your head. You aren’t in hell, that’s insane! You’re just here because somebody failed, and you’ve got to get your shit together and make it through this. If someone failed, you’ve got to get back there and make it right. Now snap out of it, and do your damn job!” Her voice rose and she realized she’d been yelling at herself. She took another deep breath and again began assessing the cave’s habitable qualities.  
“Hidden from the elements,” she said as she walked around, feeling for cold spots, warm spots and anything in between. “This spot is good for the fire, it’s protected from the wind. That rock is good for sitting; this one works for sleeping. A little paint and some curtains and it’ll be perfect,” she quipped. Another few minutes of evaluation later, she determined that this cave indeed had its merits and that she’d use it as a home base.  
“So, now the tough part… food. Don’t suppose Domino’s delivers out here, so that means I’m going exploring. Or asking Mr. Clean out there if he’s seen a steakhouse anywhere. Restaurant at the end of the universe and all that.” Much as she didn’t want to talk to him, she figured he was as good a place as any to start now that she’d cried it out and was feeling much more herself. At least she thought she was.  
Her footfalls were quick as she marched up the hill, back where she’d come from the night before… or was it day? It was hard to tell here, she mused silently as she walked. She wondered if there was anything resembling a day and night cycle on this planet. If there was a sun she’d be seeing eventually or if this was it.  
Eventually she made it to the top of the mountain where she’d first seen him. After a moment of waiting, she grew impatient. “Hey, you around?” She called to him a couple more times.  
The Red Skull crested the hill smoothly from the direction of his cave. So she survived. So far.  
“Ah if it isn’t the fraulein,” he remarked, a wicked smile spread across his face. “Eventually, manners dictate that we should introduce ourselves to one another, as I shall not be responding to ‘hey’.” His crimson lip curled in disdain. “It is crass and if you are to be my guest, then we shall at least have a modicum of civility between us, yes?”  
“We’re on an alien planet. I’m not your ‘guest’,” she shot back at him. “But,” she began again, this time adding a bit of sweetness to her voice in hopes of greasing the wheels with him. “You’re right, we’re stuck here. We may as well be cordial. I’m Natasha Romanoff.”  
The Red Skull nodded, looking her over with surprise. “Ah, you are Russian. I had assumed you were American like your brash friend. Your accent is so bland.” He clasped his hands behind his back, floating around her as a predator circling its prey. “The Russians, such fascinating opponents! Fierce and not to be underestimated. I enjoyed every incursion into your country. But why, fraulein, would you divest yourself of such a strong culture only to become...American?” His lip again curled in disdain as he stopped to listen to her answer.  
“I was Russian. Now I’m a spy. It’s really not that complicated. I spent a lot of years fitting in where I needed to fit in and most often that was in the States,” she replied, her expression unbothered by his circling though she kept a careful eye on him. She felt exposed giving him this information, but that was the point. Besides, what harm could it do? It wasn’t as if he could leave Vormir, any more than she could. What was he going to do, tell the rocks? And if giving him little tidbits about herself made him feel as though he knew her, maybe it would make him more eager to give her the information she was looking for.  
“Ah, a spy, how exciting!” He clapped his hands in front of him, as if hanging on her every word. After all, it had been years since he’d heard stories and news. “And as it sounds, a rather effective one as well. But tell me, Natasha, how is it you, a Russian spy, came to be in the company of the Star Spangled Man? A man who I cannot imagine enjoying the company of spies.” He resumed his circling, though he did so more slowly, his dark eyes fixated on her as he listened to the information she offered, filing it away for later use.  
“Let’s just say we came to an understanding,” she said, a bit exasperated. This was the legendary Red Skull? Was it her, or had he lost a step or two… or maybe a marble or five. “No offense, but I didn’t come up here for social hour. I’d love to catch you up later, but I’ve been here a while and I’m starting to get hungry. And…” she says as an afterthought, “You were so interested in me, that you forgot to introduce yourself.” A cheeky smirk spread across her face as she attempted a little bit of a tease.  
“Ah, yes, how silly of me. I suppose I indulged a bit much in your tales.” He grew silent, contemplating exactly how much information he was willing to give her and when. He weighed her need for food and shelter against his need to have her around so as to play with his new-found pawn. Though she was, perhaps, a bit more interesting than he’d assumed. He might have to upgrade his assessment of her from pawn to knight. Knights were far more useful, and therefore much more fun to play with. Considering her need for food to be paramount to her survival and her survival to be paramount to his game, he decided that he would indeed help her to find the things she needed. He pursed his ruddy lips for a moment before speaking again.  
“You may call me Herr Schmidt, Fraulein. And as for your hunger, well…” he gestured absently over his shoulder. “If you follow the mountain down, you will find a field of blue plants. As I have no need to eat, I do not know if their flavor is agreeable, however the aliens that were once here seemed to rather enjoy them. There also you will find a lake with some water that should be suitable for drinking as it is fed by the falling snow.”  
She quirked an eyebrow at him. “There are aliens here?” She asked, concerned suddenly that this changed her entire survival plan, but hopeful that they might be one of those races that had space flight capabilities. She watched him expectantly as he stopped, giving her a withering look.  
“Were, Fraulein, were. They had a rather unfortunate landing. Those who were left have long since perished,” he shrugged.  
She nodded, her mouth opening to ask another question as his finger shot up. “Do you not remember how this goes, Natasha? Information for information… and for today, I have grown weary of our conversation.”  
She smirked up at him, a spark of hope in her eyes as she turned on her heel to head down the mountain. “Sure thing,” she said as she took a few steps away from him before stopping and addressing him over her shoulder. “And how about I just call you Johann? Oh, and thank you for your cooperation.” Her head turned again and she started on the path down the mountain.  
As he watched her go, the wicked smile once again split his crimson lips.  
“One point to you, *mein kleiner ritter.”

To be continued...

*German for “My Little Knight”


	3. Survival

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Natasha figures out how to survive in an alien environment

After having had a somewhat fruitful conversation with the Red Skull and being in possession of some information about a possible food source and a path to survival, Natasha was feeling pretty good about herself. It wasn’t that she had delusions she’d actually managed to manipulate the man in any substantial way. He was far too smart for that and she was never one to underestimate an opponent. “No,” she mused aloud as she walked down the hill, heading in the direction he’d indicated. “He wants something. I just can’t tell what it is,” she mumbled, working the math in her head. “Maybe he just wants me for my sparkling personality.” She chuckled, shaking her head at her own sarcasm. “God, Romanoff… two days here, give or take, and you’re already losing it. Talking to yourself. Worse, making Barton jokes.” Her smile faded at the thought of her best friend, knowing what she’d put him through in her desperation to get him home to his family. But this was different, a different emotion. It wasn’t the profound sadness she’d felt the night before, the desperation and gut wrenching pain. No, this was something else. The sobs that had wracked her body the previous night didn’t threaten today, nor did the grief that had rendered her incapacitated. There was only survival now, the mission. She took a moment to look up at the purple sky, feeling the snow on her face and sighing. “You’ll see him again,” she said softly. “You’ll see them all again. You’ve just gotta keep it together and get the mission done. Stay focused. Head in the game.”  
After taking another moment to gather her thoughts, she nodded firmly and began once again making her way down the mountain, talking to herself.  
“So what the hell does Schmidt want from me? It’s not like he can go back to Earth, even if I did find a way back. He said he’s the guardian of the stone, so I’m guessing he’s even more stuck here than I am.” She walked briskly as she talked to herself. “He doesn’t eat or drink, so it’s not like he wants me to go and bring him back food.” As she rounded a bend in the path, her footfalls slowed. “There it is,” she mumbled, the ship Schmidt had mentioned cresting into view. She began checking the ship out cautiously. It wasn’t just that she didn’t trust Schmidt, it was that every instinct she had screamed at her this was a trap. His reputation did, in fact, precede him and it was well documented in the man’s SHIELD files that he enjoyed playing games. He considered himself a god among men. And since she’d surmised that he didn’t do anything out of the kindness of his heart, she had to assume that he was up to something by sending her here.  
“What better way to get rid of you than to feed you to some aliens?” she asked herself softly, pulling a gun from her hip, racking the slide and taking a breath. “Hello?” she called in the direction of the wreckage. She kept her gun pointed towards the ground, ready to raise at a moment's notice as she waited for a reply. “Anyone here?” she called again, rolling her eyes. “This is sure to work, Romanoff. You know, all aliens speak fluent English. May as well tell them you come in peace or some crap.” She spent another few moments of waiting and observing, watching for movement of any kind before she was satisfied that Schmidt hadn’t lied… at least about this. She released the hammer on her pistol, flipped the safety on and slid it back in its spot in one smooth movement as she took a few more steps.  
She assessed the ship, noting the rather large hole in the side and the catastrophic damage to the fuselage. “Unfortunate landing, right,” she quipped, recalling Schmidt’s words from the night before. She stepped around it, trying to see if there was anything familiar about it. Not that she’d spent a lot of time in space, but her communications with Danvers over the years had given her a small window into the rest of the universe. And, of course, she’d seen more than her share of alien tech land on Earth during her tenure with the Avengers. She came close enough to the ship to touch it, her hand drifted lightly over the damage. “Not that I’m any kind of engineer, but I’m fairly sure that without Stark, there’s no way I’d get this thing functioning again. I’m not sure even he could deal with this,” she said with another shake of her head. She hadn’t really admitted it to herself even, but deep down she’d hoped that she’d arrive at the ship to find that some scotch tape and bubble gum would have her hopping back to Earth in no time.  
Making her way towards the giant hole in the side, she ducked in cautiously, her senses peaked to detect any potential danger that may lie inside. Finding none, she crept in further, her eyes tracing over the inside of the ship, analyzing it as she did. If she had to guess, this was maybe an exploration ship, about the size of a couple quinjets stuffed together. She made her way to the cockpit, finding it easily enough. “Seems like a ship is a ship no matter what planet it’s built on, huh?” she asked herself with a chuckle as she pressed her shoulder against the half opened hatch door, putting all her strength into pushing it further open to let her pass into the cockpit. Her breath hitched for a moment at the figure sitting in the chair before realizing that he wasn’t going anywhere. “Poor bastard,” she mumbled, shaking her head, nudging the corpse’s foot with the toe of her boot to make sure he wasn’t getting up. If this accident had been back on Earth and this had been a human body, she might have been able to make at least an educated guess as to how long ago he’d died. But because all of the variables were outside of her experience, she had no idea how long he’d been there. She examined the console in front of her, her mind searching for anything that looked familiar. Better yet, like it might be in enough repair so that she could send a signal or maybe even escape.  
“Come on, come on…” she mumbled as she analyzed the buttons, screens and levers. She’d seen that language before, she thought. “Kree?” she mumbled, wondering if it was the same language she’d seen with some of Danvers’ information during their communications. “Too bad Kree wasn’t on the list in the Red Room. Guess getting stranded on an alien planet was something even they didn’t foresee having to prep for.” She sighed deeply, then glanced once again at the corpse in the pilot’s seat. “Maybe a different perspective might help,” she spoke aloud, groaning at the thought of what she was going to do, but knowing it needed to be done anyway. Taking a deep breath, she slid her arm around the waist of the Kree’s body and felt for solid mass to hold onto. “Sorry, pal, but you’re in my seat,” she mumbled, hoping nothing detached and made him harder to move as she pushed her shoulder into his chest, pulled his arm over her shoulder and lifted as hard as she could. “Please don’t be moist, please don’t be moist…” she repeated aloud as she heard the body shift and bones detach from rotted flesh beneath the uniform. Thankfully, the cloth’s integrity kept body parts from dropping. After carrying him from the cockpit, she deposited him in another seat further back, out of the way. Once her hands were free from the alien, she shuddered deeply. “No matter how many times you do that, you never get used to it,” she grumbled, brushing her hands together repeatedly to dust them off, as if it would help relieve her of the feeling of handling a rotting corpse.  
“Alright,” she nodded as she once again made her way back into the cockpit, this time taking the former pilot’s seat and looking at the console. “It’s all about perspective,” she said, allowing the flight training she’d received to take over as she analyzed. “If this thing makes any sense, this would be the throttle,” she mumbled to herself as she ran her fingers over each item in order. “Stick… vertical thrusters, flaps…” she finally paused at a button that looked promising. “Power… not that I think you’ll fly, but let’s see if we can get some juice going first, and worry about the rest later.” Taking a deep breath, she held onto the stick with one hand and pressed what she’d assumed was the engine start button with the other. The machine indeed sputtered and roared to life, the console lighting up and showing her more detail than she’d been able to see before. “Yes!” As soon as she pulled up on the stick to see if she could get the old ship airborne, it shuddered around her and the power died once again. “Dammit!” she shouted, her fists banging on the dash in front of her in frustration. Taking another moment to calm herself, to school her emotions back under control once again, she took a breath. “Alright, we’ve got power, so there’s hope. This may take a while, but it’s not like I’ve got a hot date or anything…” she chuckled to herself before sitting back into the seat and closing her eyes for a moment of respite.

To be continued...


End file.
